


Harnessed by the Devil

by x_Lvnoma_x



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Priests, Alternate Universe - Religious, Church Sex, Confessional Sex, Confessions, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Priest Kink, Public Masturbation, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Smut, Table Sex, Teasing, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_Lvnoma_x/pseuds/x_Lvnoma_x
Summary: After months of coming to Church and conversing with Father Kuiper after his sermons, you find that he has grown attached to you. And not in a friendly way either.





	Harnessed by the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Now that Halloween draws near, I'll be writing more spooky themed stuff. I really got inspired by some Priest AU head-cannons on Tumblr so I wrote this. I'll be starting on a Vampire AU Sigma fic next, and after that a werewolf Hanzo x reader one next. >:3
> 
> Here's the song that inspired the fic, btw - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9j6DE6RnSk

Church. 

The one stop shop for sinners and those seeking morality alike. A house of cleansing and purity, free from any sin imaginable. 

No, you don’t belong here. 

And neither does the priest himself. 

You don’t come here for purity, but rather charity work. But something about these quiet pure white halls and the gentle droning voice of the priest speaking draws you to the church, leading you to through the stained glass doors to come more and more frequent to hear the priest speak. You came to mass and put yourself through the torture of being in one spot for hours, just to hear him speak. 

You were a lamb being led to slaughter, tempted by the motive of sexual desire that your thoughts attempt to push to the back of your head and out of mind. How disgusting, for the very thing that caused these thoughts was the face of purity itself. The priest. 

You felt sick, even as someone who wasn’t too religious you needed to confess, you felt wrong for longing for the man who was so kind and helpful to you. He was such a kind, sweet older man who had helped others, and you wanted to violate him, to take away his purity and bring him to the thoughts of sin and indulge in them. 

People come to see him routinely, a respected member of the clergy he was. And you were one of many that came to his services. He wanted to be the guiding hand that led you to Christ, to find you peace in your soul, and you wanted to ruin that. 

You needed to tell someone, to confess, to let it all out. You truly cared for him, he was so kind, but such sinful thoughts would not do here. 

So there you sit, poised nervously in a confessional waiting for someone to enter. You felt so awkward, but relieved to finally let these things out. The one good thing was because of the odd structure of the confessional and mahogany wood, the voices you heard would be unrecognizable. Thank god, if someone you confessed to recognize your voice you swore you would never return out of sheer embarrassment. 

The small space inside the confessional was so dark, only a small light coming in from the church ceiling. A small click and someone entered. This was it, a little while and these thoughts would be gone. 

“Tell me, what do you seek here, child?” A voice, deeply monotone and soft asks from the opposite side of you.  
“Forgiveness..” You spit out quietly. 

You don’t have the guts to look up, so you squeeze your hands tightly between your thighs and stare down. 

“For what?” The voice asks, gentle and steady. 

You pause for a moment, and then reply. 

“I-I’ve been having thoughts..” You trail off. 

“What kind of thoughts, my child?”

You squeeze your hands tighter and feel your skin flush. “Impure thoughts, sexual ones..” You reply, feeling the stuffy air inside the confessional grow hotter. 

“Of who?” The voice asks, sounding a little wavery. 

You pause again, and struggle to admit. “Do not be scared, mu child, as long as you are here and admitting to your sins you are safe.” the voice says gently. 

“Of Father Kuiper..” you stutter out. 

How would they react, one of the regulars to this church, confessing to having sinful thoughts of one of the most respected clergy members? Would they tell him? You feel your body tense up. No, this church was too respected for that. 

“Can you get into detail, dear?” The voice asks again, sounding a little deeper. 

Detail? Oh no. You skin burned again and your felt the muscles in your face tighten. 

“Why..?” You ask. You felt bad for even questioning what the priest had asked, but why detail?

“I need to know what exact thoughts you have, and to cleanse them.” 

Skin flushing deeper, you’re thanking yourself for how glad you are you can’t see who you’re talking too, and vice versa. 

“I’ve been coming here not because I seek Christ, but because I want to be near father Kuiper. I bathe in his kindness and let his voice warm me. I’ve been going home after every session with him and seeing him after church hours and touched myself to him, I’ve done it so many times I-..”

The voice cuts you off. 

“Is that all?” 

A little shocked, you continue shyly. “The worst I’ve done was that once during him giving mass, I sat near the very back and I.. I masturbated to his voice..”

It felt so wrong to admit it, but basking in his words in the moment and watching his tall, broad body dressed in his beautiful black cassock standing with his back toward the crucifixion hanging over him as he strode under the bright lights were so beautiful. 

He was so pure and holy, everything you wanted to violate. 

You continued, forcing yourself to confess all the dirty things you wanted to do to him. You described in detail how you dreamt of him dragging you out of the confessional and rawing you in the backroom as the other priests gave mass. You wanted to burn with sin as he violated and used you, fucking you desperately under his cassock as he called you the filthy sinner you were. 

But oh god, if you knew, you’d be at the height of discomfort. The priest you were confessing to wasn’t a random. It was Father Siebren. 

He heard everything, and continued to listen to you admit to the things you wanted him to do to you. 

He coughed into his fist nervously and snaked his quivering hand down to pat his cassock and open up his pants. He couldn’t help it, this felt disgusting, but you got him so hot and bothered he couldn’t help himself. He let your words get him hard, describing how you wanted to suck off his fat cock and let him pound you over a table. He feels so guilty. He’s supposed to be a man of god, not some.. beacon of sin. 

He’s trying to help you get over these sinful thoughts, but instead he finds himself thinking about you in ways positively disgusting. 

He remembers you coming over to help with donations with him, and how you smile with corners so soft and sweet, he feels something coil deep inside his gut. 

But once, you hugged him and it drove him nuts. Your head barely coming up to his chest and soft body pressing against his. You were so pure and sweet, and later when those same confessional doors were locked tight he did something he hadn’t done since his youth and fucked desperately into his fist, the memory of you pressed against him fresh in his mind, your scent stained on the front of his robe. 

He quietly unbuckled his black pants and slid a hand in, taking out his hard cock and started to gently stroke it. 

He still listened to you, feeling dirty as he fucked into his hand and let your words take him into a world of fantasy. 

God, he wanted to drag you out of this stuffy confessional and fuck you until you screamed his name. He didn’t keep track of the time, but since it neared the end of the day less and less people occupied the church, eventually leaving only you two. He breathed heavily and rutted into his hand faster, desperate for pleasure. 

You’re so much younger than him, much too young for an old man like him, but he still finds ways to keep you after regular hours and prolong conversations. He didn’t want you to leave him alone with his thoughts. Someone so pure and misguided was a gift from god himself. Someone heaven-sent, someone to keep him company. 

But no matter how bad he feels about it, he continues to fuck his fist thinking about you. Even if he felt the pressure of sinning, of God’s gaze burning into his thought, he continued. 

He thought of you admitting to masturbating to him during service. Your small fragile body poised near the back, slightly slouched back with fingers down your skirt fingering yourself, letting out quiet mewls as he talked. 

His neck felt so hot under his collar, sweat beading on his forehead. He was so close..

Nearly choking his own erection, he rutted faster and let his pre-come be lube for his own hand as he quietly groaned and came onto his own lap, staining the black robe. 

He felt guilty and rushed to clean up the mess, sliding his half hard dick back into his pants. 

He stood up, tall mass almost bumping into the ceiling and exited the confessional. About to come out yourself, you feel a strong hand grip your neck and force you out. It was Father Siebren. He dragged you along, vice grip relentless as he took you into a small room and pushed you over the table. 

His usually kind Periwinkle eyes were wild with lust as he bent you over and pinned your fragile wrists behind your back. 

“What you come here every day for is not forgiveness, is it not?” He said sternly. 

His voice was so soft, yet booming as he spoke.

You felt his grip harder and press his half hard cock against your skirt as he ground his hips. He was like an animal. 

“Is. It. Not?” He repeated, grinding harder. You came to the conclusion he now knew everything. Your friendship of sorts had taken a turn for a much filthier one. 

“No..” You whimper out. 

“So you’re enjoying this.. this, sin?” 

“Yes..” You mewl, his muscular body looming over your small one. 

He stands between your legs so they didn’t close, soft thighs pressing against his waist. 

“So you admit to being a sinner, my child?” He growled, nails digging into the soft skin of your arm. 

“Yes.. I-I’m sorry..” You whimper quietly. 

He uses his free hand to pet your spine and stroke you hair, occasionally tugging on it. 

“There is no need to apologize, my child, for you will repent.” He moves his hand to grip your ass and then rub over the wetness on your panties. “Christ forgives everyone, but I’ll take it into my own hands to punish you for being the little harlot you are.” 

The colored light from the stained glass mosaic window pours down onto you both, a single crucifix watching down upon the event. Even as no one else was around to witness this, or hear the guttural animal like noises in the room, you still felt shame. 

Father Kuiper’s voice wasn’t steady and calm like it usually was, it was throaty and deep as he shamed you. You didn’t have the courage to look at him, only bury your face into the table and squeeze your eyes shut as he felt you up. 

“I myself shall make you repent for your sins, and you’ll repay with your body.” You let out a small sound, and he grumbles in response. He sounds unimpressed, almost uninterested even, like he wanted something more. He hasn’t been sated in so long, you were his respiratory for the moment. 

He pulls away and prowls around you, like a wolf eyeing its prey. You swallow nervously, his intense glare burning into you, walking around the table with his rod straight back, long black cassock moving with his long, graceful strides, crucifix around his neck glimmering in the sunlight. 

His steps are calm and quiet, long arms clasped behind his back as he observes you with a stern face on the precipice of a smirk.  
“What kind of people does God accept?” He says firmly, tracing his fingers down your back. 

“The devoted.” You sigh quietly, jumping into the feeling of his hand gently patting your head, fingers tugging softly at your hair. You press your head into his touch, feeling his hand tilt your head and your eyes forced open to peer at him. He’s towering over you, glaring into your face. His expression was hungry, and cold. Your skin burned again, and burned hotter when he pressed his body against your again. 

“And are you, devoted to me?”

His question was a trick, his usual calm demeanor laced with and unfamiliar change that made your stomach tighten. 

“Yes, father.” Your voice wavers, spoken with an intake of nervous breathes, yet so eager. You’ll always be devoted to his words and devoted to his very voice. He was in a way, your Shepard, your leader. And you, a sheep following blindly, always listening to him, always loyal loyal to him. But for a change, he wasn’t the Shepard. But the wolf attacking the herd, and you were his prey. 

“Then prove yourself to me.” He orders firmly. 

You felt him stroke your cheek with his thumb, encouraging you to lean into before kissing his hand. He twitched under your touch, for what he knew what he was doing was wrong. His fingers traced your warm lips, pressing between them to plunge his thumb into your mouth. His breath hitched, his free hand stroked your head, the other pumping a finger between your lips. You sucked around the finger and made your face flush, knowing what he wanted. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest, aroused at knowing that your dear priest wanted you in a way The Bible wouldn’t allow. You know the way he looked at you when you came to him, and how flustered he got when you were close. He tried to hide it between changed facial expressions and changing the conversation, but nothing could hide his lust. It was attempting to wear sheep’s wool, and it failed him horribly. 

He pulled his finger from your mouth, smearing the saliva onto your hot face, eyes lidded with list. 

“When you come here, what you seek isn’t God, is it not?” He starts grinding his hips into yours again, thick erection growing under your heat. You feel saddened he does not already know the answer. You’ve always been under his grasp, his, for as long as you’ve come here. 

“I come here.. for you..” You admit quietly. 

You hear him huff almost silently in disbelief, almost as if he was afraid you’d say something else. He grasps your face and you feel your body slide off the table, forced into a position to kneel in front of him. You grasp at his thighs, watching as he stood under the Crucifix that glared down onto you, moving his Cassock to unbuckle his belt. You glide your hands up farther, staring in disbelief. 

In your head, all you could think of was “forgive me father not for the sins I have committed, but for the one i’m about to do”

He looks at you, blushing as he moves his hand to let you finish the job, both large hands on your head, moving excess hair out of your face. Feeling his fingers brush against your cheek was ecstatic. Your blush deepens at the feeling of his cock growing hard under your soft touch. You feel your stomach flip when he finally gets free. 

He was.. Way above average, and in excellent condition for his age. Bashfully, you held it gently in one hand and felt the shaft stiffen in your palm. You started off by softly massaging the balls, eliciting a throaty moan from him. 

He sounded strained, jerking into your hand. You stroked him, and lapped at the tip occasionally in response to how tightly he gripped your hair. You felt the wetness from your sweaty palm and his pre-come coat your hand, jerking on his cock with your hand harder and feeling him fully stiffen. 

You pulled your hand away, slowly taking him into your mouth but feeling his press his shaft in by himself until his balls touched your chin. You tried to adjust to the feeling of how deep he buried himself down your throat, but you gagged violently around him. 

Nonetheless, he started to buck his hips. He started slowly, making you take more and more of him with every bob you got used to. Before long you had worked down to maybe an inch from his base, tears streaking down your cheeks from from the strain of the constant rubbing. 

You could taste his salty skin against your tongue, thick erection grinding against the flesh in your mouth. 

He tilted his head against his shoulder, moaning quietly as you sucked him off. His groans were barely audible, muttering inconceivable gibberish as he gripped your hair tighter and rutted roughly into your sore throat. He hips were so sturdy and powerful as they moved against your face, forcing your frame to rock against his movement. He’s so close, he can feel his shaft and balls tightening from your use. 

His breathing was quick, thrusts messy and uncontrollable. You were lost in the pleasure, taking in the feeling of the rapid back and forth pace of his body against your torso. Your fingers gripped his legs harder, Father Kuiper’s holy clad in black mass surrounded by the paintings and holy structure of the church. He was worth worshipping more than any shrine or item in this very church. 

He looked almost mad in his disheveled, purple eyes darkening and locking with yours as he gripped your hair so tight it almost hurt. 

His spine curled over you, his body freezing up as he pushed you against the base of his dick and quivered as he came violently down your throat. You could feel the hot liquid burning in your neck, but it was all for him. You did, after all, fall prey to his charms. The same charms he thought he lost years ago. 

When he pulled out, you could finally notice how disheveled he was. Hair messy, cassock undone, eyes wild, and half hard cock hanging out of his black pants. A trail of saliva followed from the tip when he exited fully. You looked destroyed. 

This wasn’t one of his sermons, or when you stayed with him during the holidays to help with donations, you were a toy for him at the moment, and you followed his every command. He used you, bred you, and you enjoyed every second of this wrongful sin with the holy man himself. 

He didn’t deserve to have that crucifix around his neck. 

He picked you up from your kneeling position and pushed your torso into the ground like a dog so your ass faced the air. He used his foot to pry your legs open, the cold lather pressing against the skin as you dug your sore knees into the wood ground. 

The view was amazing for him. You peered up from the ground, watching him eye you and bend his body over yours. 

His bulking mass pressed you harder into the ground, so much his open cassock draped over your body. 

He grasped your thigh and dug his fingers into the skin, feeling up your arm legs and rubbing the wetness that dripped down from your panties. He pressed his half erect cock into your panties, lifting up your skirt and slipping his finger under the thin cloth into your wet heat. You let out a small cry and shuddered under his touch. 

“Father..!”

He ground his body against yours, digging his fingers deeper and curling it against the sensitive flesh. It sent a shiver through your body, selecting a moan from your lips. He added another and dug deeper, slowly pumping them out and rubbing his thumb against your clit. 

Your coil burned deeper. He sat stiffly between your legs and rocked his body against yours as he fingered you, eyes dead set on your red face. 

He was so glad to be able to distort your facial expression, to turn the good little Catholic girl of his into his own little whore. He made you give into sin and indulge in it, he was as proud as he was ashamed. The bleak color light from the mosaic window had dissipated, leaving you both in a dimly lit room accompanied by the early moonlight. 

You moaned louder from his touch, he was more aggressive with the fingering, digging the fingertips into your g-spot relentlessly. Before you could come, hu pulled out. 

“This is a punishment, whore, this isn’t for you.” 

He sucked off the slick from his fingers and gave his cock a few good thrusts into his hand before burying it into you. You cried out again, and he curled over you to push your face into the ground and muffle your sounds. 

“Quiet!” He said adamantly, giving your ass a firm slap. 

He rocked his hips into yours and gripped your hips firmly. You seemed to forget he was a kind, good natured priest. For now he was a sex starved animal. His thrusts were rough and relentless, making your entire body rub against the floor hard from his movements. You could feel how deep his Dutch horse-cock was going, consistent in destroying you. 

Over and over, he penetrated the soft wet flesh and used it, the hot pre-come dripping down your legs. 

Your throat was sore, trying to hold back the moans but accidentally letting one slip out. He gave your ass another hard slap for that. He wanted to punish you, but he really did want to hear those sweet moans to rile him up. 

You could barely move from how close he was to you, stiff bulky body skin tight to yours. 

“God may forgive you, but I will never forget this.” Father Kuiper said under his breath. 

He grabbed your soft breast and fucked harder, making your red face even more sore from the constant friction. He pinched a nipple under your top and knead it in his sweaty hand. Your mewled from his touch, and he hit you again. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying this, but you moaned again, causing him to smack your tight ass. 

“F-father Kuiper.. I.. oh..” You moaned quietly, blissed out to the point where your words were barely audible. 

You felt his thrusts grow sloppy, you could tell he was close from how rock hard his dick was as he pounded it in. Over and over, he drilled his cock into your g-spot, and made your body quake violently around him. Every time you tightened around his shaft, he let out a long shameful groan. The sound of your wetness and soft mewls were music to his ears. 

He hooked his arms over your and pressed it against your clit, carelessly rubbing at the bundle of sensitive nerves. His other long arm reached over to nestle in your hair, but not gently. He pulled hard, hard enough to make your neck hurt as he pounded you from behind. His black cassock hung over most of your body, so not even the crucifix hanging above could see. Only his eyes were allowed to gaze your wet body and the things he did to violate your purity. 

For the moment, he was worse than the devil. For someone of this recognized holiness, to sin and take away another's purity was unheard of. His name was no longer white. 

He groaned into your ear as he fucked you, muttering words in Dutch and telling you what a sinner you are. 

“Whore..” He groaned loudly, gripping his hand over your mouth as his body stifled and came inside you violently. 

He sat inside you for a few moments, letting you feel the thick ropes of come coat your womb and trail out your abused heat as he pulled out. He took his cock into your hand, jerking his cock to spit out whatever left out come onto your back. 

“Confessions are over, you’re forgiven..” He breathed heavily. 

You were no longer the pure little virgin that came to his sermons. You were his toy, and he stole every bit of purity away from you to be his. He had herded the sheep, and you fell victim to the wolf. 

You were a sinner, harnessed by the devil. 

Art by me @Ladylunoma on Twitter


End file.
